As I stand and stir the pot
and look within its amber broth,
bubbling there I sip to see,
just what ingredients I might need.
Perhaps the sweetness of Anne Lise
who spreads her joy o're all to see,
or Andrea's bouquet garni,
within the broth she will parlay.
The presence of our own queen bee,
the sage advice of Debbie G.,
and of course the spicy seeds
of jalapeno hot PD,
but there to keep some sanity,
the master spice herself -- Cyndi,
but as the scents waft in the air
I know somehow it's just not fair.
It's each and every poet here
that spice the soup throughout the year.